Sweet Temptation
by underground-girl
Summary: Izaya travels to New York to search for his grandfather who has been missing since he was a baby. There he meets his handsome and sex-demading landlord Shizuo who helps him in his search. Their relationship doesn't take long to grow with jealousy and sexual tension. And the closer Izaya gets to his past, the more he realizes that he needs someone by his side.


Title: Sweet Temptation

Author: underground-girl

Rating: M

Pairing: Shizuo Heiwajima & Izaya Orihara

Disclaimer: This story is based off of the book _Sweet Liar_ by Jude Deveraux. I do not own Durarara or _Sweet Liar_. All credit goes to the original story. Alterations from the original story have been made.

Note: The original characters from _Sweet Liar_ are basically the same. However, I swapped most of their genders and changed the main characters names. I'm following the basic storyline, making a few changes here and there and adding more smut. I apologize ahead of time for any spelling and grammar mistakes.

Prologue

"So you're telling me that I have to go to New York and search for my grandfather who disappeared when I was a baby?" complained Izaya Orihara to his mother's best friend and lawyer. The woman's presence was not helping his current mixture of emotions.

For all he knew, he was all alone in the world. Earlier today his mother had been lowered into a hole in the ground. Now that his mother, and not to mention his father and grandparents, were gone, Izaya didn't know what to do. Not even his ex-wife was there for him. Their divorce just so happened to be finalized on the day his mother died, so for all he cared, she might as well be dead too.

"I am merely telling you her final request of you. She prepared everything so that the only thing you have to do is pack your bags and get on the plane," she said, putting a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "She loved you until the end. She always wanted the best for you."

"Sure," he scoffed.

Izaya sighed and looked around his mother's favorite room – the library. If was empty of many of the thousands of books it once contained and the wall-high bookshelves had started their slow process of gathering dust.

Walking over to the large wooden desk in the middle of the room, he spotted his mother's nameplate. He picked it up thoughtfully. He had drawn race cars in Sharpie when he was little around the sides of it. He turned to the attorney to say something but noticed that she seemed to be lost in her own thoughts.

Indeed she was lost in her thoughts. She was staring out one of the wall-length windows ad considering some of her more memorable conversations with her best friend.

Izaya's mother, Namie, was a hardheaded woman. Not even her best friend could persuade her to change her will.

"Izaya can make his own decisions," she had tried, but Namie would have none of it.

"All I'm asking is for one year. After that he can do whatever he wants. I think he can mentally handle New York."

The attorney didn't voice her opinion because she knew it wouldn't be heard. She had known Izaya all of his twenty-six years of existence. She had brought him doughnuts and played soccer with him; she helped him study for tests and made him cookies when he was sad. She'd been a second mother to him until he was ten. Until he'd stopped being a normal child.

Now Izaya seemed to want to be invisible. His hair was short and unkempt. The black coat he wore to the funeral was old fashioned and made him look twenty years older. His eyes were now a blank brown and, in all her memory, she couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him truly smile.

Oh, but was he ever charming when he did smile. She recalled the time Izaya had come home after a jog with his friends. Izaya was eighteen at the time and a senior in high school. Namie was in the kitchen making lemonade and Izaya had started taking his shirt off in the parlor not knowing that his mother's best friend had entered the room. She wanted to say hello, she really did, but she was transfixed by his body. Thinking back, she probably saw more than she should have.

His hair and torso was drenched in sweat. His muscles were toned, all of them from the look of him, and he flexed them as he did his cool-down stretches. She watched him as if hypnotized, taking in the sight of his shy but sincere movements. She watched him as he ran his hand through his hair and muttered something about a shower. As the redness from his face began to fade and the pride shone in his eyes. And she took a mental note that, despite his muscles, he was slim and had a slight curve to his back.

Namie had walked in at that time and giggled at the expression on her friend's face.

"And I wonder why I have to chase girls away from him with a broom," she said, half to herself.

Namie handed the attorney a glass of lemonade and giggled again as she walked out of the room blushing madly.

Izaya smirked at his mother from across the room.

It was years later when Namie was writing her will that she confessed to the attorney the things she had kept to herself for years. "I've taken Izaya's life from him and he deserves to have it back," she'd said, holding her friend's hand.

"Why do I have to do this if I don't want to?" Izaya asked loudly, putting Namie's nameplate down.

"It's just for one year," she found herself saying, coming back to reality and smiling in response to his blank stare. "You'll get the money your mother set aside for year once it's over."

Izaya walked over to the windows and took in the sight of the backyard. The farthest part of the backyard was a greenhouse that had Namie's favorite vegetables. The rest of the yard excluding the deck was grass. There was a line of trees on the right side of the yard that had a tree house Namie had helped Izaya build when he was seven.

"Why did she sell the house?" he asked, turning back to the attorney.

"She didn't say."

Izaya thought back to the weeks before his mother's death. She'd asked him what he'd do once she was gone and, not knowing how to answer, had had told her that he would move into her house and probably find a job in the knife business. She clearly had not liked his answer.

Those last few weeks were the closest he had ever been with his mother. Despite the fact that she had decided the next year of her son's life and had secretly sold her house, Izaya had enjoyed it.

The attorney cleared her throat.

"Well, here are the keys to your apartment in New York. The landlord will give you the keys to the building when you get there. And Izaya," she said, "I'm sorry for your loss."

Izaya nodded and watched her leave the room. Scratching his head he debated his situation. His clothes were already packed because he had _thought_ that he was going to move into his mother's home. All he needed to do was pack up the books that remained in the library.

And from what he saw while looking around the room, he had quite a lot of packing left to do.


End file.
